


A Night Out

by jhsdhalr



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 09:33:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2423837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jhsdhalr/pseuds/jhsdhalr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a night out with Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night Out

Bored. Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored.

John has gone to an Army Reunion and I'm stuck in 221B being bored. There are no cases and I'm seriously bored. These reunions seem to consist solely of men drinking to excess and telling each other grossly exaggerated stories. I can think of numerous more interesting things to do like shooting myself in the foot, for example.

What, I wonder, do the ordinary masses do when they're bored. The answer is obvious. They go to the pub, or to use John's terminology, I'm going down the pub. I hate the pub. I hate being bored more though, so I decide to go completely berserk and go down the pub.

As soon as I enter the door a loud voice shouts SHERLOCK, COME AND JOIN ME, and there at the bar is Lestrade. I go and join him and within moments a large glass of beer appears in front of me. I hate beer. I take a tentative sip and Lestrade bangs me hard on the back causing me to aspirate some beer over the bar. A barmaid appears like magic with a cloth. GREAT TO SEE YOU, Lestrade yells at me.

I sip some more beer and listen to Lestrade telling me about how he went to a party where everyone was dressed as a canary. Just think he tells me, breathing beer in my face, I fucked a canary. He then tells me about a serial killer who killed his victims by wrapping them in bubble wrap and then throwing them in the Grand Union Canal. This is quite interesting. I drink more beer and tell Lestrade about how to recognize and identify different types of bleach by sight alone. It occurs to me that I am almost certainly now doing what John is probably doing. That is, sitting around drinking and telling exaggerated stories. I don't exaggerate much though, not like other people.

I find I'm onto my third beer. Someone deep in the depths of the building shouts out CAN ANYONE PLAY THIS THING. The thing in question is a piano. Before I can stop myself I hear myself saying I CAN. I finish my beer and go to the piano. It's flat but not too bad. I launch into the first movement of Grieg's Piano Concerto and am distracted by an old man leaning over the top of the piano and asking me if I know something called Down at the old Bull and Bush. Helpfully he sings it and equally helpfully I abandon Grieg and join in on the piano.

A number of people gather about the piano and we move away from the Bull and Bush and onto a thing called Hey Jude. No-one knows the words, and, since this is in Lestrade's words, a real old fashion pub, we all just sing Hey Jude over and over again. We then go through Bohemian Rhapsody, Dancing Queen, Single Ladies, I will survive and Baby one more time. I am given another beer and some whiskey and halfway through Single ladies I realize that I have magically acquired two extra hands. I now have four. How useful I think as I thump the keyboard. I don't know any of these things but join in as people sing them to me. I even sing as well. I can sing. I am so talented in so many ways.

I drink more beer and more whiskey and a large man with a beard joins me in providing music by banging his forehead with a spoon. Three other people start to whistle. Lestrade does a tap dance. I had no idea he was so talented. We sing our way through Thriller and for some reason a very tall woman sings I enjoy being a girl. I find I'm fascinated by her bushy red mustache. I wish I had one like it.

Some time later I discover that Lestrade and I are actually outside the building and in the street. I decide we must have teleported there. How wonderful, I tell Lestrade, I've invented human teleportation. Lestrade applauds and bows to me, resulting in him falling down. I try to help him up and fall down on top of him. It takes a while to get up as it's suddenly become very windy and the pavement is terribly uneven.

We decide to go to 221B because, according to Lestrade it's closer. I don't know what it's closer to but I agree anyhow. It takes days to get there. Day and days. I suggest we sing to pass the time, but first we stop and pee in an alleyway. Lestrade tells me women like thick cocks. I tell him I don't care.

We eventually arrive at 221B and I can't find my keys. Lestrade says we mustn't wake Mrs Hudson but we bang the door anyhow. No-one comes. I inform Lestrade that she sleeps very soundly when she's had one of her herbal soothers. We sit down by the door. I find I have a bag of toffees in my pocket and a pack of Chocolate flavored condoms. We eat the toffees. My teeth stick together. I suggest we try a condom. They prove to be inedible. Lestrade tells me you aren't supposed to eat them you're supposed to put them on your cock. I start to undo my trousers and Lestrade tells me to wait until we are indoors because it's cold and they shrink when it's cold. 

We try to think of other things besides condoms that shrink in the cold. Lestrade suggests elastic. I can't think of anything. We think hard. I stop because it's hurting my brain. Suddenly a taxi pulls up and John gets out. Why are you sitting there, it's cold, he wants to know. Lestrade tells him we like to sit outside as it's good for the soul. He really is something special I think as I examine the bottom of my shoes.

John has his keys ready and we go in. It's surprisingly warm inside and we all remove our coats and shoes right away. Lestrade removes his trousers as well, in case, he says. You're both drunk John informs us, and seem to have had a good time while I've been bored to tears. I feel terribly sorry for poor John even though there are no tears in sight. I remove my trousers too and Lestrade and I sit together on the sofa. John brings us coffee and, somewhat mysteriously, an iced bun each. You should eat something, he says. Lestrade tells him we've had toffees and I mention the condom.

Lestrade tells us he fucked an iced bun once. I tell him I don't fuck things they usually fuck me. I tell him I'm constantly being fucked. He seems very interested but I'm terribly tired and find I've lost interest in the whole conversation. John says he's going to bed.

Some days later, I awake with a terrible headache. I am in my bed and Lestrade, of all people, is with me. I try to remember the previous night and have a sudden and alarming image of myself and Lestrade dancing together, both naked. I get out of bed and discover I have what looks like icing on my cock and balls. I decide to delete the whole evening. It makes sense. I like things to make sense.


End file.
